If These Sheets Were The States (Then You Are Miles Away)
by carliemartinBLG
Summary: He's Dean Winchester, the man every woman wishes to have. A hard-to-please perfectionist, fired lots of scatterbrained secretaries. A glimpse of his smile is worth killing for. Will everything change now that this excessively hot, blue-eyed fashion failure wearing a hideous overcoat is his new secretary? Destiel and Sabriel, fashion industry AU (On hiatus until further notice)
1. Chapter 1: Everybody Loves Me

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel and other characters of Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke and belongs to THE CW NETWORK, LLC. © 2012. All Rights Reserved.**

**A/N: The story's title is based on All Time Low's song, If These Sheets Were The States. **Some chapter titles are based on lyrics from various songs. I disclaim all rights of ownership on those songs, because yeah, they're not mine. I just love listening to them.

**P.S.: **The italicized words in the characters' dialogues are for emphasis. The non-dialogue italicized parts are meant to be said by a narrator on a freeze frame (most of them are introductions).

Enjoy reading! Xoxo -charlie

* * *

**Ch1: Everybody Loves Me (I Just Don't Have The Time To Return The Favour)**

He's the heir of Winchester Fashion Co. He's the man everyone loves. The man every woman wishes to have. A glimpse of his smile is worth killing for. His hazel green eyes possessed the power to captivate almost anyone. He's got a reputable job. He's once one of those wealthy kids with millions of dollars on their trust funds.

His face wasn't that easy to forget, because its beauty is projected on almost every billboard across the state. He's a son of a witty businessman and his beautiful supermodel wife. His family's name and background helped pave his way to success, and running the family business is the only way of returning the favour.

_Meet Dean Winchester, Marketing Manager, future President and CEO of the Winchester Fashion Co., known for his tousled ash-blonde hair, hazel green eyes, lean, perfectly-toned muscles and tanned body,_

_...and one of those people who can't find a decent secretary to work smoothly with._

"That's mainly because you always claim that you're a perfectionist! You wanted their work to be perfect and fire them for their inadequacy but in reality, you're just being a lazy jerk!" Sam sat on the seat opposite Dean's table.

_Meet Sam Winchester, Stanford scholar. Dean's younger but not-so-little brother, a soon-to-be lawyer, part time commercial model, owner of the most attractive bitch-face and a full-time son. He's an enormous six foot four inches in height (but he just__ gobbles up lots of salads.)_ and really loves those watery-eyed moose.

"Yeah, they just can't do anything right. Why waste the company's resources on them?" Dean peeked at Sam from his iMac and shrugged.

"You should've dismissed them in a better way, Dean." Sam chided.

"Stubborn people just won't learn the easy way," Dean's flat reply sounded as if he couldn't get himself to care.

"Eh. That's the problem, Dean-o. You're too bossy," a sly voice came from Dean's FrozenGlass office door. "You send them out for a _crappylatte_ or a _crappuccino _on Starbucks on your break time, make them check your coat for creases, do a bunch of stuff that your lazy ass can do and they hear nothing from you except your generous complaints."

_Meet Gabriel Milton, Advertising and Promotions Manager of Winchester Fashion Co., and has a HUGE secret man crush on his best friend, Sam. He loves chocolates and getting on Dean's nerves every single time always makes his day complete. If you knew him well enough, you can call him 'dirty whore' or just Loki._

"I'm their boss. I'm supposed to be bossy." Dean stated in an as-a matter-of-fact tone.

"Meh. Not in a douche-y kind of way. Look at Sammy here!" Gabriel patted Sam on the shoulders and proceeded in messing with Sam's hair. "Everyone lasts with him,"

"Ow. Gabe. Knock it off!" Sam swatted Gabriel's hand. When he found it was a near-impossible job, Sam tickled Gabriel's sides and they both started laughing. The advertising dude fell onto the younger Winchester, literally. The apatite eyes locked with the golden ones, and there were unicorns and candy canes and good times...

They stay on that position for a second too long.

"Ehrm." Dean coughed. "Gay."

Gabriel, being a 'trickster' that he proclaims he is, wants to annoy Dean more. It's a game Sam willingly plays with him. He planted an open-mouthed kiss on Sam's cheek. He nibbled his way to Sam's neck, and-

"Sammy, the first thing I wanted you to do when you become a lawyer is to let me file a restraining order against Gabriel effective for the rest of my life."

"Well, that's too harsh, bucko. I'm just expressing my feelings. Heh."

"Can we please get back to the topic?" Sam blurted, his cheeks having a strange hint of red. If anyone noticed, no one paid attention to it.

"All I'm saying is, they're fairly educated, so they're not your servants to order around with nonsense stuffs." Gabriel looked displeased but his tone challenging.

"Well?" Dean looks expectantly at his little brother.

"I'm on Gabe's side this time, Dean." Sam gave Dean the best bitch-face of the century.

"Wow, Sammy." Dean announced disbelievingly. "Aren't you his little bitch?"

"Jerk."

* * *

"So, I asked Dad to monitor you and the way you treat your secretaries. Apparently, he doesn't like your way of dispatching them, too." Sam forked a cherry tomato and munched on it while still looking at Dean.

"I am doing a favour for this company and this family! I'm getting rid of those people who are not fit to serve our purpose." Dean slowly articulated, knife moving criminally on his steak.

"Son, rumours are spreading that we don't value employment in the company. I understand your concern, but you must know that everything we do can affect the WFC's image on our investors." John countered, much to Dean's frustration. When John Winchester spoke, it's proclaimed law. "I hope you understand."

_Meet John Winchester, President and CEO of Winchester Fashion Co., a decent businessman of Italian and American descent, a respectable man, a loving husband, and an overly-doting but strict father._

"Yes, dear. Your dad's right. You had let some talented people pass, and your dad and I thought we needed to put a solution to this matter."

_Meet Mary Campbell Winchester, Executive Vice President of Winchester Fashion Co., a supermodel of her time, award-winning actress and one of the designers of several clothing lines under WFC. Blonde trendy cool chic._

"Mom, not you, too?"

"I'm sorry, baby. Your dad just wants to make sure everything in the company's flowing smoothly."

"That's it. I'm done here. If you'll excuse me." Dean sat up and flung his napkin on his chair and added, "I have some _more important_ matters to attend to." and walked gracefully out of the dining room.

"He's got your temper, and your denial." Mary told John. Her husband just shrugged in a _'what can I say?'_ way.

* * *

"So. Dean. Your mom and I hired a new secretary for you yesterday. We already interviewed him and we knew his family." John said while sitting on the seat opposite Dean's table. "I am expecting that you would try your best to be nice to him."

"Him?" Dean peeked from his white MacBook Pro with Retina display to briefly look at his father. "You mean, you got me a male secretary?"

"Is there something wrong? I see no problem with it." John said passively.

"Dad, if my female secretaries in the past were fired because they can't do their job well, a male one could be much harder to control." Dean appealed.

The silver lining with female secretaries is that, even if they're incapable of doing their jobs by themselves most of the time, the nice view is quite satisfying. Knowing Dean – he was certainly a ladies' man. Now, what the hell is he supposed to do with a male secretary who probably has no sense of fashion?

"He'll appear here in just a few moments. You know damn well you can't fire him, because I hired him. Sorry Dean." His dad said, not even sounding sorry at all, but instead telling him to deal with it. "I can assure you this one's different. Be nice and don't treat him the way you treated your past secretaries; else, you'll answer to me. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Dean went back to his PowerPoint presentations and started fixing everything for his next meeting. He doesn't know what will happen later, but one thing's on his priority list: He going to have a fool-proof plan to make sure that he'll crumble whatever sense of protection John will put over the his new secretary.

* * *

"Mr Winchester, sir?" A gravelly voice sounded from the other side of his FrozenGlass office door.

"Come in." Dean unwillingly looked away from his MacBook to acknowledge the visitor's presence. A not-so-tall figure emerged from the door and slipped quietly inside his office. He stopped and stood in front of Dean's table.

Dean studied the man's outfit, out of habit. He looked first on the man's smart Italian shoes, to the unattractively oversized creamy yellow overcoat donned over a suit. Man, this one should learn how to dress stylishly. Then his eyes travelled upward to the man's neck, his pale pink lips, his prominent cleft chin, his tastefully-defined jawline, artfully-dishevelled hair, narrow nose, perfect eyebrows, long lashes, and… Damn. The magnitude of the man's masculine beauty hit him all at once.

Damn those brilliant blue eyes. They were the exact same colour of sky blue Swarovski crystals – Dean's favourite.

"Good morning. Sir John sent me here. My name is Castiel Novak, and he assigned me as your secretary."

Dean haven't noticed how much wider his eyes had gone and how lower his jaw dropped at what the blue-eyed fashion freak had said.

_Looks like you're going to focus hard on your fool-proof firing plan on that one, Dean!_

* * *

**A/N Part Two: **Btw. This chapter's just a trial. I don't know if I'll have the guts to continue this one. So it just depends on how you guys will like it. :) If you do, then I'll continue with the next chapter!

**A/N Update: Good news.** Chapter 2 on progress! I enjoy writing this way too much to let go of it. I already love Perfectionist!Dean. This won't be a trial anymore. :D


	2. Chapter 2: Hard To Say I Don't

**A/N: Forgive me for the late updates; I got buried on tons of school papers. Plus, timing's a bitch. I have to take six assessments for the past two days and all I can think of is this story.**

**Okay folks! Story time!**

**P.S.: To my wonderful viewers and reviewers, you rock! Keep it all coming! Xoxo. -Charlie**

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**Ch2: Hard To Say "I Don't" When I Really Do**

"Clear my entire schedule for the 24th to the 26th of December. _No, Castiel. I don't want you to fix my schedule because I'm your secretary and I'll fix your schedule! _Jesus Christ! You're a secretary, what're you supposed to do!?"

"Pick up my laundry and put it at the back seat of my car. No, not the Everest, you dunce. What am I, a muscle man?! That's my brother's car. Look for the black Porsche!"

"Squeeze a meeting with Miss Jones on the 19th at 7pm. Nope. Stop. No questions. My number one rule: Just shut it and do it."

"Go to D&G and pick up the special package that I bought for Miss Braeden. I want you to deliver it on her doorstep in Vancouver and tell her to have a happy birthday. _Hey, I don't care if that's three hours from here; _just take a flight using my private jet first thing in the morning and go."

_Cancel this. Arrange that. Gabriel's right. Dean's good grace is one of the things one can't get out of sympathy, _Castiel thought.

_But I'm not going to surrender._

* * *

"Bring me some Mocha Frap, make sure they add extra double pumps of cream and sugar," came his last order. He needs some sugar running on his body.

Dean needs to think of Plan B because he's too exhausted with ordering Castiel around for the past week. He never seems to complain, well, just a bit. _Ten points for Gryffindor!_

Castiel rolled his eyes after getting off the phone with him. Damn if that didn't make _Little Dean _twitch and ache. He watched Castiel's divine lips chew dirtily on the tip of his pen while dictating his orders. Dean wondered what more miracles those lips can make, and what more objects with tips does Castiel chew dirtily on. Those familiar sky blue Swarovski eyes and too much masculine beauty can inflict serious issues even on the straightest man's manhood and therefore must be declared illegal in every state in America.

Dean was too immersed in observing Castiel moving out of his table to get his Mocha Frap that he hasn't even noticed his FrozenGlass office door slide open. He's still eyeing him in frustration when Sam and Gabriel entered his office (playfully holding each other's hands), along with Gabriel's brother. The man has a spiky blonde hair, steep nose, full lips and blue-grey eyes. He's wearing a thick-rimmed Ray-Ban eyeglass, dressed with a silk white tie, tight black long sleeves tucked in a too-tight black slack. In his hands were a bulky gift box and a megaphone.

The trio looked at Dean and followed his line of sight.

"If only looks can melt," Sam looked from Dean to Castiel, and then glanced sideways at Gabriel.

"Then Cassie would be a puddle of goo on the floor by now," Gabriel finished it for Sam and shrugged.

"Hmm, Loki? Looks like he's going to devour our li'l brother alive," Gabriel's brother said approvingly, waving his megaphone.

"Shush. Dean-o doesn't know jack squat about Cassie. He's using mom's maiden name so he can go 007 on Dean and Madame Mary told us to be quiet about it," Gabriel reprimanded him.

"Fine, whatever you say," His brother replied lazily.

"And who knows? Dean might wanna bang his puppy blue eyes out of its sockets, but he might freak out because he's _Castiel's first love_," Gabriel whispered explicitly on Sam's ear, his hands snaking on the younger Winchester's hip.

Gabriel's chocolate-y scent lingered on Sam's nose as his lips found its way to Sam's earlobe, and gently bit it. It took all of Sam's concentration to resist the urge to lick Gabriel up and down like a Popsicle.

_Sam wondered if there's a guide yet on how to hide a boner in front of your seductive man friend. Sam Winchester's Guide On Resisting A Man-Induced Boner. The title sounds good. He better start writing later._

"Dean's straight," Sam defended, although his voice sounded nowhere near convincing.

Gabriel's brother snorted. "Sincerely doubted that since the 'closet thing' the twins Michael and Rachael pulled on him," he looked slyly at Dean. "Oh wait. Just let me announce my graceful arrival."

Eyeing the megaphone and the gift, Sam and Gabriel shared a _'shouldn't you be stopping him?' _look. Instead of stopping the catastrophe-in-the-making, the pair just stared at him stupidly.

He threw the bulky box directly on Dean's head and shouted at him through a megaphone, "Gooodmorning Vietnaaaaaam!"

_Meet one of the sexiest bastards alive, Lucifer "Call-Me-Nick-And-Not-Lucy" Milton. Gabriel's older brother, a cosmetic surgeon in his very own Milton Surgicentre, one of the main stockholders of the Winchester Fashion Co., a major frenemy to all and a raging grade-A dick. As they would always say, the name suits the attitude. Warning: Emotionally unstable. He hits on anything that moves._

"Fuck! Ow! You freaking son of a bitch!" Dean rubbed his sore head and glared at the culprit. "Lucifer Fucking Milton!"

"That's no way to say hello? No French kisses and dry-humping hugs for your dear friend Nick?" Lucifer pouted his full lips repeatedly, smooching invisible kisses in the air.

Dean gave Sam his murderous look. "Seriously, Sam?"

"Surprise, surprise," Gabriel muttered under his breath.

_Another Milton pain-in-the-ass inside the office. What a great time for a reunion. This is going to be a long day, Winchester!_

* * *

Usually, lunchtime is Dean's most hated time of the day – that means almost no people are working. No work equals wasted time, and wasted time means wasting the company's resources.

But now, Dean just wants to evade Nick's exasperating presence. With him around, Dean feels like he's done nothing productive at all for the past three hours. A quick lunch, another Mocha Frap that he ordered Castiel with, and some strolling in the city with his little brother would take his mind off of things.

They sat on a quiet park three blocks away from the WFC Skyscraper with Sam's salad takeout and Dean's deluxe bacon cheeseburger. Ah, good times.

"We haven't done this in years, Sammy!" Dean rumbled while munching his treat. When Sam only responded with a nod, Dean shook him. "Hey, everything okay?"

Sam looked like he's buried in deep thoughts.

"Hey Dean, do you remember Gabe and Nick's little brother? The one that always hides whenever you're going with me for a visit?" Sam inquired, dousing his salad with the packed vinaigrette.

"Um, no? I thought it was just Loki, Anna, Nick, Rache and Mick?" Dean counted his fingers. Right, he's _trying_ to forget someone.

"You sure you don't remember?" Sam looked up from his salad. "Mick and Rache locked you two up on Nick's towel closet on his thirteenth birthday."

Dean almost choked at his Mocha Frap. His skeletons are definitely hidden in Nick's closet for decades and no one bothered to ask… Not until now.

"Uh, yeah, right. The kid with the black hair, I remember him," Dean concludes, not wanting to continue the conversation anymore.

"Yes, that. The one you said that owns the sky blue Swarovski eyes," Sam pressed on.

"Yeah, those sparkling blue eyes," Dean said absentmindedly.

Images came flashing on his mind. Those blue eyes staring back at him, his body invading Dean's personal space, Dean's hands lingering on his hips, his soft lips hesitant under Dean's insistent ones… Dean can still feel his heart race up to this very time; the first taste of the kiss still lingers on his lips like it was yesterday.

_I kissed a dude and I liked it._

Dean shook his head, hoping that the images would just go away.

Sam tested him once more. "So, do you remember him?"

"Mmyeah. But honestly, I don't know his name."

_It's a shame that I haven't asked, though. _Dean thought.

* * *

"Hello, Castiel _Novak_," Lucifer greeted cheerfully. He hovered on Castiel's office table, taking one folder and flicking idly on the pages. "How endearing that you've used our dead mom's maiden name,"

"Go away, Nick. I'm working."

"I don't understand why you asked for this job, being Winchester's whore. With your educational background, you could do so much better," he drawled, sounding as pitiful as he possibly can. "Maybe you could get his position instead, little brother."

A sound of brisk footsteps echoed behind Lucifer. The brothers don't seem to notice.

"I have my own reasons, Nick. Those reasons are none of your business. Now, leave me alone." Castiel raised his voice a little too loud. Thankfully, it's still noon and the others are still out taking their break time.

Lucifer grabbed Castiel's elbow tightly and slowly twists it. "Dean will soon find out, you know. There's no closet that can hold too many skeletons for a long time,"

One quick snap is all that Castiel's waiting for and his left elbow is going to shatter to pieces.

"Nick. Let me go!" Castiel's pleading had gone an octave higher from the white-hot pain that's currently spreading onto his arm.

Someone grabbed Lucifer from behind and punched him straight in the face. Another swing landed on his jaw, another blow on his right ear, and the last one landed on his gut. Lucifer crumpled on the ground and was picked up again, only to be shoved painfully on the wall. Nick stared at his oppressor.

"Get the fuck out of here, Lucifer Milton or I swear to God, I won't stop punching you until you bleed to death." Dean Winchester whispered in a dangerously low voice. He let go of Lucifer's collar.

Lucifer struggled to get up and gunned for the sliding glass door.

"This isn't over yet, Winchester." Lucifer eyed Dean, and then flicked his deathly stare to Castiel. "You too, prude chick."

He watched Lucifer limply walk away and hurriedly went to Castiel, who stared after Lucifer in horror.

"Cas, dude, are you hurt? I'm- Hell, I'm sorry if Nick had done anything, it's not that he's my friend, I- hate him. When he's around, these things happen-" Dean flipped Castiel's arm over, searching for bruises. Dean's inside his personal bubble, searching for injuries in his body. He gave him a nickname, and he even punched Nick for him. That set Castiel's heart beating a thousand miles per hour. He can't even answer Dean. His mouth is opening, but no words would come out.

"Hey. Cas, talk to me."

* * *

**A/N Part two: Forgive me for the lame cliffhanger, but I still can't get over Dean's "Cas, talk to me," on SPN S08E08 the other week. That episode's freaking awesome! Though I half-expected (okay, scratch that. I really expected) Gabriel to appear out of the blue.**

**But, alas. Even though I'm kinda disappointed, all my feels went all over the place when they have that Destiel moment. Dammit.**

**Eh, enough rambling! Chapter 3 coming up in a few days.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Carpal Tunnel Of Love

**A/N: Sorry for the late updates on If These Sheets Were The States and The Hunters' Diaries. I'm still not done with my thesis, but I wrote this chapter. WHAT HAVE I DONE.**

**I Worship Steven Moffat** - I'm glad a lovely fish like you took a dive on this sea! Don't worry, I'll add more plants (for adventure! *wink*)

**MissCimi** - Thank you, then more it is! :D

To those who's following and reviewing this story, Thanks, and... YOU'RE AWESOME! :)

Onwards with Ch3!

* * *

**Ch3: The Carpal Tunnel Of Love**

"Does something hurt? Cas. Hey, come on, speak up," Dean goes on feeling the now shaking Castiel for bumps and bruises, while his mind is ordering him to bite the blue tie, take off the creeper overcoat and fuck him senseless.

Dean thought of all the possible headlines that might be written in every possible magazine when someone in close link with the Press sees them.

**_Mr D.W. Seen With Hands All Over A Male Secretary._**

**_Opposites Attract? WFC Ambassador of Fashion Dean Winchester Seen Stealing Time With A Fashion Tragedy._**

Dean shook his head in hopes to get rid of the mental headlines. He can't help but frown at the sudden turn of events. He feels guilty and dirty all at the same time.

Yes, it's true that he's concerned for Castiel's safety. But the faster the seconds tick by, the more he thinks that the situation's a piss-poor of an excuse to get touchy-feely and literally get your hands all over his hot secretary. If he wasn't at all worried at Castiel, this might be classified as a _pornographic groping_.

_As one of the foundations of the company, we must be responsible for our employees in our division. We must exhibit honest and sincere concern to preserve the perpetuity of the employer-employee bond_, Dean repeated a passage in the WFC Employee Manual, but it turns out he's more on the_ 'trying to convince myself' _side. Hell, John will have his hide for what he did to Nick, but he didn't even get himself to care. Nick's just being his normal sadistic self and his innocent secretary's on the receiving end. It could've been anyone.

Castiel winced when Dean (absentmindedly) twisted his right elbow, looking for injuries. Seeing his reaction, Dean dropped Castiel's arm like he's been electrocuted.

"Please don't twist that," Castiel reasoned weakly, "It hurts."

"Sorry. Come on, we'll take you to the hospital. Can you walk?" Dean started to get up when Castiel tugged his sleeve.

_Oh, poop._

Everything seemed to slow down like all those poorly-made cheesy rom-com movies. Dean was caught off-guard and lost his balance. Gravity mercilessly pulled him down, and his body melded with Castiel's like they were magnets made for each other... Dean tried to take control of the situation, but alas, it was all too late. Castiel's pink chapped lips met Dean's lush ones.

...and there were confetti showers, doo-wop tunes, milkshakes, fireworks, and fluffy unicorns shooting rainbows out of their asses. For once, it was an accident. But accidents should never feel this damn right.

It was as if Dean had come home.

* * *

"Dean, Dad needed you to sign this one," Sam announced while walking into the open FrozenGlass office door. "I know you hate Christmas parties and stuff, but Dad wants to have a Secret Santa going around on each department,"

He was greeted by silence, sans the whirring of the air conditioning unit. Odd. No coffees on the table, iMac and MacBook turned off, and no sulking Dean on the stuffy office chair.

"Huh." Sam mused. Dean had never gone out during office hours unless it's important. He turned to go to Castiel's table instead, only to find it devoid of the usual settler.

"You sly fox. Sucker for sky blue Swarovski eyes." Sam concluded.

* * *

The past two hours had been chock-full of awkward. No one had ever mentioned about the accidental meeting of their mouths, but the stench of tension was still hovering in the air between the two. They remained silent except when answering the doctor's questions.

When it's clear that Dean won't leave him, Castiel finally spoke.

"Sir, I'm fine. Please go back to the office now. You have a meeting at two with the Harvelles, 4PM with the Campbells, and Miss Braeden wishes to see you for dinner at seven," Castiel looked at the sombre-looking Dean.

"I asked my brother Adam to take over my meetings for today." Dean countered. "And don't call me Sir. That sounds way too old. Call me Dean."

"I will... But Miss Braeden insisted to-" Castiel rambled on, but Dean's hand cupped Castiel's mouth to silence him.

"Don't worry about Lisa. She'll understand," Dean smiled at him so bright that he can't help but smile back. The warmth of Dean's hand was spreading on his face. For some unknown reasons, it made him drowsy and his head spin.

_Did he just skipped his meetings just to monitor me?_ Castiel wondered amusedly. _I'll tell this to Gabriel the second the doctor lets me go home._

"Incoming call. Please answer or press ignore." Dean's phone rang, shattering the reverie the two had resided on.

_Damn talking phone_**,** Dean cursed internally. He quickly removed his hand at Castiel's mouth and fumbled for his phone. He checked the caller ID and answered tiredly. "Loki, please tell me you called because of something important."

"Oh please, Dean-o. It's _very _important," Gabriel's voice sounded on the other end of the line. "You and Cassie. Missing in action after lunch break."

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

"I'm just saying that you should've banged him after office hours. You're doing it with him while you should be here working- that's negligence of duty."

"What the- I'm not banging anybody, you prick! This is clearly not a negligence of my duty. I'm at the hospital because your demon of a brother twisted my secretary's arm."

"Oh," There's a pause for a fraction of a sec, and then Gabriel said, "Wait, what? Nick twisted Castiel's arm? That sick son of a bitch. Hey bucko, would you keep an eye on Castiel? Sammy and I will cover up for you two. I'll deal with that dick."

"Fine. I will, as long as you stay out of my brother's ass, literally. Bye, Loki."

"That's ha-" Dean tapped on the red button, not wanting to hear Gabriel's possibly disgusting retort.

Dean was suddenly engulfed in angered confusion. _Why is it that Gabriel was too infuriated at what Nick had done to his secretary? Why does he want him to keep an eye on Castiel? What the hell's going on between them? It's not that I care, anyway. And this is sure as hell not jealousy._

Castiel looked at him with weary eyes, and Dean ordered him to go to sleep. He watched the sky blue Swarovski eyes hide behind those heavy lids and thick eyelashes.

_No. I'm not jealous. He's just my secretary and I don't feel anything for him. Why in heaven's name would I be?_

* * *

Sam went to the seventh floor restroom near the Advertising Office to take a piss when a hand tugged him onto a dimly-lighted cubicle. The next second, he was pinned on the cubicle wall by someone who's slowly kissing and grinding onto him. A part of him wanted to push the unknown man away, but something at the back of his head nudged him not to.

A greedy hand clutched his hip and the other on his hair, pushing his head closer. The scent of the air wafting on Sam's nostrils reminds him of the crystallized violets that his Granny used to make. Sam screwed his eyes shut and tried his best not to respond but to no avail.

The gentle lips trailed down onto his neck and the familiar voice murmured the most astonishing statement Sam had ever heard.

"It truly hurts me that all these years of giving hints of what I feel towards you, you haven't even made a single move."

* * *

**A/N Part Two:** Cliffhanger questions: **A)** Who's groping our Sammy? **B)** Why does Cas needed to tell Gabe about everything Dean does to him? **C)** WHY IS DEAN REACTING SOURLY TO GABRIEL'S CONCERN TOWARDS CAS?!

jsakghfjksdgfsdhfgasddsfjgsd sefgsdygflkjhsdlkgh. I just can't wait to write the next chapter! :D Reviews for kind people, thank you. Xoxo -charlie.

**P.S.:** If you wanted to know how this story will pan out, check out the **story outline written on my profile**. Safe to read, NO SPOILERS, just TEASERS. :)


	4. Chapter 4: Bang The Doldrums

**A/N: I'm so sorry about keeping you hanging for the past month! I'm treading in neck-deep flood of projects right now that I barely got time to post something, and... *dodges a flying tomato* Oh, please don't throw things at me! :D**

* * *

**Ch4: Bang the Doldrums**

Dean wasn't really that much of an afternoon person; it's either he spends his afternoons doing a meeting with his clients or finishing up some marketing reports. Due to his lack of sleep and me-time, a task-less moment is an unavoidable opponent waiting for the opportunity to knock him out.

This, waiting for his secretary to wake up, is indeed a task-less moment for him.

_Perhaps a stroll would do me some good_, Dean Winchester thought as he almost fell on his chair for the second time since he settled beside his secretary's hospital bed. He got out of his chair quietly as to not wake up the peaceful-looking Castiel and made his way to the café on the ground floor of Lemon Sage Medical Centre.

"Mocha Frap with extra double pumps of cream and sugar, please," Dean said absentmindedly at the girl behind the counter.

"Will be right up... Dean Winchester," a cool, soothing voice responded. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Dean started at the sound of his name.

_In the other side of the counter preparing coffee was Rachael Milton, a tall brunette with an unnatural love for coffee. A lover for pranks like his brother Gabriel, she and her twin Michael locked Dean and their youngest brother (the one that Dean didn't even remember the name!) on a dark closet on Lucifer's thirteenth birthday._

"I should ask you that, Rache." Dean retorted.

"Ah, I'm working here. Not 'working' working, I own this humble place. I'm just making my time productive until my brother arrives."

"Where's Michael?"

"The cornhead flew to France to take that bastard Balthazar Roché and fix our marriage, I guess," said Rachael.

Dean nodded approvingly. "Gotta say, your brother's too nice than what we give him credit for,"

"Eh, he's just too unpredictable, I say. Hey, you haven't answered my question yet?"

"Ah yes, about that. I brought my secretary here. Your dick of a brother mangled his arm."

Rachael's long eyebrows were rising in a quizzical way.

"You mean Lucifer? Come on, take a seat and tell me about it." She led Dean to a chair near the counter and turned to the fair-haired skinny boy behind it. "Samandriel, would you mind taking my place for a while?"

"Nope, not at all cuz."

After sipping a considerably copious amount of coffee, telling Rache what happened to Lucifer and his secretary (and omitting the fact that Dean accidentally kissed him), and slapping his own face repeatedly to keep himself awake, Dean finally bid Rachael goodbye and made his way back to Castiel's room.

His seat for the past three hours is now occupied by a girl with curly strawberry-coloured hair cascading on her shoulders. Dean tried to take a good look at the girl's face, but her back was turned and he couldn't quite get a view. Castiel is weakly blushing and smiling at her, but seemed overjoyed nonetheless.

"So, have you told him the truth?" The girl asked kindly, sounding as if she's just asking a little kid if he had broken a flower vase.

Dean's curiosity got the better of him and decided to peek on the wall. Castiel looked guilty.

"No, Anna. I shouldn't. I might get fired if I did."

"Then it's Gabriel's problem, not yours."

"You can't blame Gabriel; he helped me through almost everything. I owe him a lot of things."

"Well then, can you blame him if your relationship sink just before it even started?"

_Gabriel? Sink? Relationship?_

Dean, who seemed to have forgotten his manners upon hearing Castiel discussing Gabriel and relationship with an unidentified girl, snapped. "And who are you?"

* * *

"Gabriel?" said Sam breathily. Gabriel hummed approvingly, still kissing Sam's cheek.

Gabriel's undoubting hands curling desperately on Sam's back, and the soft lips devouring the younger Winchester's skin adoringly while _Mini-Sams_ had started a debate inside Sam's own head.

_It didn't have to start this way._

_This... This must be built of a stronger foundation. Not just some... 'Fiasco' that you'll regret once you've sobered up!_

_Dude. What the hell were you thinking?_

_This is your angel, your best friend giving himself up to you. How can you resist?_

_Years of sexual tension and it all comes down to this. Go get him, tiger!_

It took Sam all the strength he can muster to take over the mini-Sams on his head and stop enjoying the temporary bliss.

"Gabriel, hey," Sam tried to shake Gabriel off, willing him to pay attention. "Wait, stop."

"What's the matter?" Gabriel asked, his features garnering the record for the world's fastest expression change. His once lustful eyes now stained with so much shame that Sam himself had to shyly look away, but his grip never moved an inch.

In fact, it even felt tighter because of the fear of an escape his best friend might make.

"I..." Sam stuttered. "Room, now."

Sam and Gabriel usually stroll down hallways with muffled laughter and hearty chuckles. Today was kind of different. The proposed talk ended six floors up on Sam's personal quarter without anyone noticing the wordless tension between them, with Gabriel looking like a guilty teenager caught by the police and Sam keeping a strained face, yet blushing red as a ripe tomato.

Sam bolted the door behind him and faced a different side of Gabriel he had never seen before.

"I swear showing whatever I felt towards you is like flirting with a brick wall."

* * *

The girl straightened up at the sound of Dean's voice, like she was expecting him. She turned around, her red wavy hair bouncing and her hazel gaze locking with Dean's emerald ones.

"That's not a way to greet a lady, Mr Dean Alexander Winchester?" the familiar girl smirked. "Madame Mary sure is to be informed about this,"

Dean gaped in utmost surprise at the mention of his full name.

_On Dean's seat sat Anael Milton, also known as Anna. By being exuberant, tempestuous, witty and a grade-A trendsetter, Anna easily became the head of all fashion designers at the Winchester Fashion Co. Anna specializes in wedding gowns and suits, but she fancies making summer wear and designing winter outfits at the peak season._

"Anna? What the-"

"Hush, I won't steal him or anything, if that's what you're asking," Dean attempted to protest but Anna carried on as if he hadn't heard Dean's muttering. "I'm just visiting Castiel; Gabriel called me a few hours back. He just wanted to make sure little Castiel's okay," Anna turned to ruffle Castiel's already unkempt hair like a fond mother, while Dean went as red as a tomato.

_Gabriel really sent his sister to make sure my secretary's okay? What the fuck is going on?_

If Dean's emerald eyes can shoot bullets, Castiel and Anna are likely to bleed and drop dead on the floor by now. His gaze fixed first on Anna, then at Castiel.

_What's so special about you, Castiel Novak?_

The moment was shattered yet again by another phone call. Dean hoped in high heavens that it isn't Gabriel, or else he might really need to get a new phone after he lodges this one out of the window.

Dean looked at the caller ID. It was Mary. He moved to the window, away from Castiel's and Anna's confused gaze.

"Hey Mom, what is it?"

"Dean? I know you asked someone to fill in for you, but-" Mary's sweet motherly voice sounded on the other side of the line.

"Sorry Mom, I really can't. It's an emergency."

"I know, I know. But listen, Gabriel and your brother Sam is not in their offices..."

Grim lines of confusion formed in Dean's forehead. "Yeah and...?"

"We needed someone to fill in with Gabriel's presentation by five, if ever he hasn't arrived in time. Bobby thought you're capable of presenting the Winter Collection to some of the clients."

"Should be that easy," said Dean, but then he glanced at the clock and hesitated. Quarter to five? Hell, even if he dashed downstairs into his car and throttled in full speed, he'll surely never make it in time with the traffic. Riding the company chopper surely isn't an option (because the last time he did, he was with Anna and he was hyperventilating five seconds after lift-off).

And he surely can't leave Castiel here.

"The company chopper is available for flight. Perhaps it'll take you here in time."

Dean's voice jumped about an octave higher. "Flight?! Um, Mom? Look, I… Uh, I'm really on an emergency, and I... I'm in charge here."

He started to panic at the thought of flying, and glanced quickly at Anna. "Can't Lady Anne handle it herself instead? She created the Winter Collection for this year, anyway."

Anna looked like she's about to laugh. The thought of Dean and flight really makes a good piece of comedic failure.

"Ah, yes. Anna. Why haven't I thought of it?" Mary approved. "Don't rush on your emergency, baby. I'll say goodbye now, then."

"Alright, keep me posted."

One more minute and Anna's bidding Castiel goodbye and before Dean could even notice it, a smile of relief and gratitude was ghosting on his own lips.

"Anna, go to the helipad on this building. I'll call the company chopper. You'll never get to WFC on time with wheels."

"Thanks, Dean." Anna hurriedly checked her makeup and dashed for the door. She stopped at the doorway and sternly looked back at Dean. "Take care of Castiel, okay?"

"Uh… Yeah, sure, whatever."

Dean looked back at the sky blue Swarovski eyes that stared shyly back at him.

_Oh yes, what's so special about you?_

* * *

"What's happening to us, Gabriel?"

"It's you and me. Years of denial, years of resistance, years of…" Gabriel trailed off, placing his gaze anywhere but Sam's eyes. "Never mind, I'm leaving. I have a meeting in five minutes. See you tomorrow."

Gabriel felt his eyes stinging and started to go for the door but Sam rushed and blocked his way. His head collided softly with Sam's broad chest; Sam's arms involuntarily curled around his best friend.

"Get out of the way," Gabriel struggled desperately, eyes now looking directly at the carpet. He noticed the wet, salty drops from his own eyes staining it.

"Gabe, if you choose to walk out of this door, you're… choosing to walk out of my life."

A long silence followed, Gabriel weighing his chances. After a long battling of reasons with himself, he gently pried Sam's hands off his waist.

Gabriel tried to put a lid to his flask of tears, but the stopper's a bitch. Trying his best to keep his voice steady despite his flooding eyes, Gabriel found the strength to say the last words that would drop the final shoe.

"Let me go."

* * *

**A/N: Anna's Castiel's sister, obviously. Dean's being his possessive self again (and we have absolutely ****_NO_**** idea why, eh?). Kidding, I know you knew.**

**And... Sam and Gabriel is in stalemate.**

**What's happening to Gabriel, well, I have no idea. Let's look at it like this: If you have a best friend and he's way too fun to be with that you found out that you're falling for him, it's scary at first, really. Fear of what, you ask? Fear of losing that "something" between you, that is.**

**The issue? Gabriel played his cards and placed their whole relationship on bet. Took the damn risk, hoping that they could be... ****_You know what I mean._**

**The problem? He backed out before Sam could even reveal his cards to Gabriel.**

**Conclusion, anyone?**


	5. Chapter 5: A Daydream Away

**A/N: Learning history does us good things. If you don't know what I mean, just read on. *wink wink nudge nudge***

* * *

**Ch5: A Daydream Away**

In the middle of the night, when the snow is peacefully drifting from the cloudy skies above, an unlikely scene is unfolding on a secluded forest not far from the outskirts of Lemon Sage District.

Two boys, their age not going above twelve, were finding their way outside the dark forest, but the more they walked, the more they seemed to be lost. They were struggling to tread on knee-deep snow, holding each other's gloved hands.

"Come on, let's keep moving. We're going to find a way out of this forest." The boy with the ash-blonde hair said, gripping his companion's hands reassuringly.

He had been repeating the same phrase for hours, and every time he utters those words, meaningless as they were to his own ears, his hand was always squeezed back by the boy with the dark-brown hair.

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked back alarmingly when the boy hadn't returned a soft squeeze. His companion suddenly collapsed on the snow-covered ground, holding his arms tight around himself.

"I… I cannot carry on much longer. Listen, Dean. You go on, call for help as soon as you got out. I'm fine here. Keep safe." The boy with the dark-brown hair breathed, his teeth chattering from the chilling bite of the wind. His eyes that so much looked like sky blue Swarovski crystals has now a glassy hue in them, looking at what can be sorted as a look of pleading.

"Don't talk like that, Clarence! Clarence, no. _You_ listen to me. I can't leave you here. You'll die here freezing cold, that's…" The boy with the ash-blonde hair struggled for words in choked-back sobs, his emerald eyes stinging with tears. "That's lousy! Pathetic! I thought you wanted us to get out of these woods together! Together, remember?"

Saying these words, the boy with the ash-blonde hair wrapped his hands around the other, whispering words that he himself had never dreamed of saying out loud. "I love you, Clarence, alright? I admit it! Hold on, okay? We're gonna get you out of here. Say you believe me."

"Yes, Dean. I do believe you."

The sky blue Swarovski eyes slowly faded underneath its heavy lids upon saying these words, his mouth curling into what would be an unmistakeable smile, his teeth still chattering and his mouth issuing heavy puffs of cloudy air.

The ash-blonde-haired boy acted on pure instinct; he pulled his own thick leather jacket off and draped it on the other's shoulders. He hoisted up the deadweight body, the right arm of the unconscious boy on his shoulders, and his own left hand on the other one's waist. He then continued to walk more briskly than ever despite the burden he was now carrying and the cold bite that seemed to be clawing his lungs, going nowhere in particular but determined to reach a shelter that would keep them alive for the night.

Then, at last, after another hour of walking, he saw a shabby-looking abandoned shack on the middle of a clearing. He almost ran to it, half-dragging and half-carrying the dark-brown-haired boy.

"We're going to be alright." He said to the unconscious kid while attempting to open the cottage door. To his surprise, no brutal force was needed to prise it open; it swung perfectly open when he turned the knob.

Inside was what he was hoping to be a place to stay. There is an old fireplace with a pile of twigs and logs stocked neatly beside it, a small kitchen with two chairs and a table to dine on, a cabinet, a considerably small restroom, and a bed wide enough for two spread-eagled people to sleep comfortably. It all looks unused for some time now. He rested the dark-brown-haired boy on the bed, removed layers of jackets and pulled the rubber shoes off his feet. He left the boy's clothing intact, which was so much like his; all drenched in melted snow. He turned to the cabinet and decided to change when he found some warm-looking clothes.

_Surely I can't leave him like that_, he thought as he took in the amount of melted snow that drenched the other one's remaining clothes.

After fruitless minutes of debating with himself, he decided to light the fireplace and the stove with the precious silver lighter he stole from his dad earlier, and placed a kettle with three glassfuls of snow on the stove. While waiting for the water to get lukewarm, he got back to the bed and started unbuttoning the other's shirt. His own hands are quavering, from the cold breeze coming from the window or from the tension emanating from him, he did not know.

With every inch of skin revealed, he felt his cheeks getting hotter by the moment. Heat was spreading downward explicitly on his body, the same familiar feeling when he was stealing sloppy kisses from girls on the school storage room on break times. He unbuttoned the last button absentmindedly and pulled off the part of the shirt that was tucked inside the boy's slack.

_Won't come off, dammit_, he said to himself begrudgingly through gritted teeth. He undid the thin belt and proceeded on fumbling on the silver button of the trousers.

The kettle wheezed obnoxiously, catching him off-guard. He leapt up, unintentionally brushing the unconscious boy's half-hard bulge hidden in his pants. If he could even blush more, he did.

He went to the stove and shut it off. He poured the lukewarm water onto the basin, admiring the sheer heat emerging from it while soaking the small cloth he retrieved from the cabinet earlier and started to wipe the warm cloth on the still-unconscious boy, all traces of lust removed and now replaced by pure concern.

After almost half an hour of wiping his companion with the warm cloth, the icy pallor that he projected a while ago was replaced by a healthy shade of flushed pink. He fitted him on layers and layers of thick clothes and tucked him under thick quilts to keep him warmer and looked back at his work contentedly.

_There, you look better, lovelier, even_ . He smiled to himself. Without hesitation, he bent down on the sleeping boy's face and kissed his lips serenely. He ruffled the dark mass of hair on the boy's head, stood up to put away the basin and hang the cloth near the fireplace.

Now, come to think of it, Rachael and Michael wasn't that bad to lock them both up on Lucifer's towel closet on his last birthday…

"Dean?" a voice from far away called. It sounded urgent. Despite the towering snow falling from the dark sky, he opened the door and stepped outside. He struggled to keep himself upright while treading on knee-deep snow, finding the source of the voice. The ground began to shook, and layers of ice began to crack from under his feet. He yelled back, willing to the one who was searching them to head in their direction.

"Dean? Dean! Wake up!"

Dean jerked upright from leaning his head on Castiel's bed; his heart was pounding at a vicious million miles per minute. He stared back at his secretary's panic-stricken face, the one which was evidently shaking him awake from the dream that reminded him of what really happened years ago.

The sun was now rising faintly behind the dark mass of clouds that covered the entire sky. Snow littered the windowpanes outside Castiel's hospital room. Dean furrowed his eyebrows unconsciously at his secretary, taking in the immense beauty that still shocks him up to this very day since he first met him days ago. Faint sunlight highlighted his steep cheekbones, his eyes glowing blue under his heavy eyelids, traces of doubt evidently curving his beautiful lips downward. He was thinking.

"It looks like you were having a nightmare. I… I heard you speak of my name. More like shout, actually. So I woke you up. Are you alright?" was everything Castiel had to say to explain why he had roused Dean up. To Dean, however, it doesn't make any lick of sense.

Before Dean could blatantly point out that he may have said "Clarence" and not "Castiel", a loud knock from the door startled them both. With an unconsented entrance, Lucifer Milton dramatically emerged from the whitewashed doorway of Castiel's room, carrying a bouquet of deep black roses. His bruises were still shining purple, his lower lip had a deep gash on the side, he was wearing a neck brace and his right eye was still half-closed from the swelling.

"Hello, brother." He said in a false, too-cheerful voice, swanning playfully on his way to Castiel's bed. He laid the roses on the nearby table.

Out of instinct, Dean glided protectively between Castiel's bed and Lucifer's position. Completely offended with the sadistic surgeon's arrival, Dean did not even bother to hide his grimace. He just concentrated on keeping his hands crossed in his chest to suppress the urge to shot a rude hand gesture and shout profanities at Lucifer.

Dean found his own heartbeat deafening and felt his blood pressure kick up a few notches._ Lucifer is really pushing his luck_. The extreme amount of nerve he had to show himself after what he had done!

"So, what made you shag ass here, Nick? Continuing your business?"

"You hurt my feelings, Dean." Lucifer said, clutching his heart and pretending to faint. "I just wanna speak to my brother, is all."

"You're no brother of mine." a calm, yet alarmingly cold voice of Castiel sounded. "Get out of here, please."

Lucifer pushed his thick-rimmed eyeglasses on his nose while he nodded approvingly, looked at Castiel rather indignantly and smiled menacingly at Dean.

"Hmm, I see. Little Cassie has finally got himself a boyfriend."

Lucifer's statement froze Dean in his place momentarily. His stomach did a few flips of delight at what he had heard. Apparently, Lucifer looked pleased that he achieved the effect he'd like to inflict on him. Dean shook his head as if wanting to swat away the thoughts of butterflies that now were filling his stomach. He firmly stood his ground once more and stared intently at Lucifer._ Never back down, don't back down at this insolent son of a bitch_, he kept repeating to himself.

"You heard him." Dean nodded to the partly-open door. "Get out of here. Five seconds, Milton. Gonna be fun giving you a broken jaw this time, if you ask me."

"I'm just seeing to it that he's not moping in earnest. It's pitiful, you know. You should see it sometime, when I break his ribs next. Ah, well. See you around, Winchester." He smirked and vanished behind the closing door the same time Dean wheeled around and looked at his secretary. He glided and gently perched on the edge of Castiel's bed, his hands subconsciously tucking stray hairs that littered Castiel's radiant face.

"Don't mind him. He's always like that, the filthy scumbag." Dean whispered feebly, sitting on his seat beside Castiel. "Don't worry. I'll take care of that one."

His own heart leapt at the statement that came out from his mouth. What made him say that, Dean Winchester have no idea.

"He speaks like he knows you." Dean stated quietly. The butterflies on his stomach a while ago were now turning into monsters, clawing him inside with dark hatred for Lucifer. "In fact, almost everyone does."

Castiel remained silent. He pursed his lips and sought Dean's eyes. Could it be possible that Dean already knew?

_Not now, not when the cards are on my favour_, Castiel thought. He decided to divert the attention of Dean to the subject that would most likely mess up his thoughts.

"Miss Lisa called while you were asleep. She insists on seeing you today." Castiel whispered at the corner of his mouth while grimly checking for some changes in Dean's expression.

Castiel was always invited by Sam and his cousin Adam in every fashion show of the Winchesters' ever since Dean participated. Of course Dean needed not to know that; nor did he seem to care even if he knew. He's always with Lisa Braeden on every show, every front cover of all magazine dedicated to the latest fashion trend, smiling and posed on all positions. For many, Dean and Lisa are the most perfect couple imaginable, and he's just poor little Castiel _nobody_. It's not far from possible that maybe, just maybe, Dean had forgotten him already. He's just Castiel the forgotten friend, the forgotten lover, the one who was left behind to dwell on things that were obviously long gone.

Castiel, on the other hand, scurried away from the limelight that was always chasing him; away from the dangerous fire they called show business. Many offers came along as he grow up, the most outrageous of them was the offer of being an ambassador of beauty of a rival clothing line of the Winchesters', but he didn't even give a rat's ass to it. Instead, he studied at Stanford with the friendly younger Winchester, Sam, and his own brother Gabriel who helped him worm his way closer to Dean. He took a Master's degree in Business Administration. All of it he did so he could prove that he could outwit everyone in his classes without the grace of his family name; that he could be someone independent even if he is Clarence Castiel Novak Milton, the youngest child of Zachariah and Hester.

Yet, here he is, shackled up with Dean Winchester, as his secretary. Lucifer has a point. With his own educational background, he could do so much better. This is his mistake; too much heart was always his problem...

"Hey, you spaced out or something?" A stern voice wrenched his attention back to the present. He looked back at Dean, whose eyebrows are now raised in a quizzical manner. He pushed a button on his phone and returned his secretary's confused face. Dean noticed how adorable it is when Castiel does that, tilting his head sideways at confusion.

"I'm sorry, sir. What was it again?"

"Don't," Dean raised his index finger as if to silence Castiel's argument. "Don't call me sir. It's irritating. We've talked about that."

"Dean, then. Tell me," said Castiel.

"I said, all's well." Dean waved his phone at Castiel meaningfully. "So stop whining, because it's my fault why you're here and I'm not going to leave this damn place until you're fit to be chucked out. Got a problem with that?"

He looked at Castiel's glassy blue eyes once again and smiled at him reassuringly. Just two weeks ago, he was still complaining to his father about his new secretary. Those days seemed almost too far back for Dean, like a dream that was too easy to forget.

A voice, his own voice inside his head resonated in his ears.

_I thought you wanted us to get out of these woods together! Together, remember?_

Just then, the door creaked open once more. Acting on impulse, Dean stood upright in a split second.

If Lucifer did come back a while ago to "visit" Castiel and hoping to catch him alone, then he must've been a great deal for Lucifer. Castiel's been marked, which means that he's practically _ everything_ but unimportant. So whether Castiel likes it or not, Lucifer's going to haunt his ass until he gets what he wants.

He's thinking of all possible ways to knock Lucifer off his feet, from a simple brawl to strangling him to death. He sought for something to hold on to, and he found and mistook his secretary's cold hand for the steely railings of the bed. Realizing this, he nevertheless gripped tight, not wanting to cause any confidence Castiel had in him to fade.

His grip on Castiel's hand relaxed when it wasn't Lucifer who emerged from the door. It was just a typical doctor in every sense of the word; on his hand rested a sturdy white clipboard. He wears a white uniform under a white laboratory gown, and on his neck hung a stethoscope. He's wearing a pair of…

_Is that a pair of cowboy boots?_

"Ah, awake at last, Mr…" He flipped several papers on his clipboard while smiling stunningly, flashing his pearly white set of teeth. "Clarence Mil- I'm sorry, it's Castiel Novak, am I right? Yes. How's your arm feeling?"

Castiel glanced at Dean momentarily and smiled sincerely towards the doctor.

"I am feeling a bit better now, thank you."

Dean heard nothing more of the conversation. His thoughts drifted once more to the dream he had and all he can think of right now is the boy that was brought by his dreams, the reality that had happened years and years back. He remembered the dark mass of hair resting on a fluffy white pillow, the small hand that clasped his own while treading on the snow and those eyes that shone like brilliant sapphires at night and sky blue Swarovski crystals by daylight.

He's the youngest brother of Michael, Rachael, Lucifer, Gabriel and Anael. The youngest Milton, the one who was locked with him on Lucifer's closet on his thirteenth birthday, the one who got lost in the forest with him, his name is Clarence.

_At last, I remembered. I better tell Sammy._

"You don't need to strain yourself, though. A bit more rest and some meds and you'll be out by tomorrow."

"Thanks, Doc."

"_Paging Dr Sexy, please proceed to the ER immediately_ ," a muffled voice speaking through a public-address system made its way to the room, making Dean smirk at the sound of the doctor's name.

"I gotta go," The doctor rushed out of the room, leaving the two alone.

"Doctor _ who_ ?" Castiel chuckled.

"Nope, not Doctor Who, it's Doctor Sexy." Dean winked, and Castiel, if possible, laughed even more.

* * *

**A/N: Lemon Sage just sounds prissy, eh?**


	6. Chapter 6: The GPS Saved Dean's Dignity

**A/N: Sorry for the late updates, and thanks for the lovely reviews and to my readers, especially thesecondloser, kb18142, Funny Face, Coolisimo12, Maybaby34, HuntingWithAngels, IceFemme, TooLazyToLogin, StarkidSherlockSlytherin, westc0astsm0ker and everyooone! xoxo  
**

* * *

**Ch6: In Which The GPS Saved Dean Winchester's Dignity**

"Yes, Mr Winchester. Just sign here, here, and here." The hospital receptionist's shaking finger pointed at the three blanks on Castiel's release papers while smiling (too much to be considered a normal smile) at Dean. Her narrowed eyes darted menacingly from Dean to Castiel, then back to Dean.

Dean can almost see what the receptionist had been thinking. It's all sketched in her face – the clues that shout, _"I'm your biggest fan, and this news is so going out to twitter!" _Dean, of course,gave her the benefit of the doubt. It's been a part of his career – people watching his every single move.

Castiel remained as calm as ever despite the tension emanating from Dean, his face deadpan as the receptionist continued to smile at them inappropriately. Dean, on the other hand, had some difficulty harnessing his self-control. He wanted to shout profanities to the receptionist and claim that there was nothing else going on between him and Castiel.

"Here." Dean handed her back the signed papers and attempted to throw a smile at her, however faux. The receptionist continued to grin at them like a self-content Cheshire cat – which, in reality, creeps Dean out of his wits. His eyes flickered to the badge pinned on her uniform.

_Becky, her name is Becky. Why does that ring a bell?_

"Um… Anything else?" Dean smiled uncertainly. He still was definitely creeped out, and he can't shake the feeling.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot! Here, your Exclusive Digital Identification Tickets arrived earlier this morning. For you, Mr Winchester and you too, Mr Milton." Becky handed Dean two EDITs.

"Um, it's… Novak. I'm Castiel Novak." Castiel corrected automatically, snatching his own EDIT card away from Dean's hands. Dean, however, didn't miss the asinine correction. He looked at his secretary using the most intimidating gaze that he could muster.

"Er, yes. Apologies, Mr Novak." Becky blushed, and turned to Dean, whose face is grim with sudden mood whiplash. "Have a nice day."

Dean gently pushed Castiel's wheelchair and walked towards the lift to get his car. Castiel still hasn't figured out as to why Dean became suddenly insufferable, he just continued to probe Dean with his assessing gaze. Dean pushed the button which leads to the parking space and avoided Castiel's blue eyes.

"Dean?" Castiel murmured, terrified that Dean might lash out at any moment.

"What?"

"I…" Castiel paused and pursed his lips, thinking of a way to refuse Dean's offer earlier to drive him home. A hot-headed Dean doesn't make a good driver – or a good company, at least.

"What?" Dean spat, his tone more demanding than usual.

"I think, I…" Castiel began nervously.

"You think what?" Dean interrupted; his usually calm voice now half-shouting.

"Dean, will you let me finish!" Castiel retorted, matching Dean's tone.

This seems to calm Dean down a bit, a signal that Castiel took as his signal to proceed. He took a deep breath before saying, "Dean, I think I am capable of hailing myself a cab."

The look on Dean's face and the words that came after that was priceless.

Dean laughed grimly, his tone playing between anxious and irritated. "Haha, no. Nobody ain't calling no cabs, angel. Nope. No chance, Romeo. Nada."

_Of course, this is Dean, alright. He always makes some reference to pop culture and now I'm lost_, Castiel thought, before answering. "Um… May I ask why not?"

"No, you can't. I want no questions asked, if you still remember my rules." Dean replied, firmly asserting his power over his secretary.

Castiel's now watering eyes just stared at Dean's, tilted his head sideways and his brows furrowing in confusion.

And those watery blue eyes made Dean feel guiltier than ever. He took a deep breath and stared at Castiel's eyes, his anger subsiding but still not vanishing.

"Cas. Your stuff's on my car; money, spare clothes you keep at the office, meds, everything. Anna informed me that you live on your house alone. There's no chance that I'll let you catch a cab and go home like you've never even been to the hospital - so I'll drive you home. You _capiche_?"

"Yeah, I capiche."

* * *

So far it's been the laziest of days that Sam Winchester had ever experienced during his stay at the WFC Skyscraper. No tastefully vulgar text messages to answer, no soft voice leaving voicemails to listen to, no one bothering to invite him to grab a snack at the middle of his eight-to-eleven morning work routine and no best friend trashing his office with candy wrappers.

Sam never even realized, not once, that his life is just a pile of moose crap without Gabriel. Not until now.

The more he faced the windows and the glass door of his office, the more Sam was expecting for Gabriel to literally burst in and throw himself at Sam, as always.

But the younger Winchester knew that that was the last thing that will happen, so he just sat idly at his squishy office chair, his back facing the door to block further regrets that will nag his brain when the moment arises.

It was three minutes past eleven when Sam's office door busted open. Sam bolted upright from his slumped seat, looking expectantly at the door that just opened, hoping for almost a thousandth time that morning to find Gabriel emerging from the door but…

"Hey, Sam! Just got your phone bill from the Great Wall of Letters. Jeez, place's been packed since that Secret Santa crap memo your Daddy issued, had to wade through shitloads of people. This reminds me… Wait a minute, where did I put that?"

_No, it's not definitely Gabriel,_ Sam thought.

_It was Ian Bradbury - __well-built man with a medium height. He's known all over WFC for sporting a trimmed beard, his happy-go-lucky attitude, being an extremely bad influence__. Sam's best childhood friend – although they drifted apart after several years. Ian loves to draw, and to nick pencil supplies from the supply cabinet for his "masterpieces" is his habit. He is the older brother of the infamous IT geek, Charlie Bradbury; they both work in the IT Department. They are in-charge of monitoring new EDIT registries and security cameras – well, no wonder nobody noticed Ian nicking stuff!_

"Whoa, easy there, dude." Sam warned, as Ian wobbled under his (surprisingly huge) backpack.

Ian heaved his heavy load on Sam's office table and started emptying it. Pencil boxes, two bottles of Grey Poupon (_What the hell?_ Sam thought), a slightly rumpled copy of Busty Asian Beauties, several empty condom boxes and so much junk.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of digging junk on Ian's bag, he pulled out two slightly crinkled envelopes: one standard-looking envelope and another expensive-looking shining yellow envelope, and handed it to Sam.

"Phone bill and a letter from your Secret Santa. Got mine, too." Ian tapped his baggy jeans, indicating the red paper poking out from his pocket.

"I bet your Secret Santa gave you an office supplies coupon." Sam smirked.

"Don't need one!" Ian chuckled, waving the pencil boxes as he placed it again in his backpack. "Got everything I need right on the supplies cupboard. Pilfering's much easier than shopping for essentials."

Sam laughed for the first time in that day. Ian walked to Sam's door and was halfway going out when he suddenly remembered something. He closed the door again and grimly looked at Sam.

"Ah, and one more thing, Sam. There's something you need to know, and there's something that I've been rooting to ask you."

"What is it?" Sam queried.

"Your EDIT pass card's blacklisted at room 7102."

Sam froze upon hearing the words Ian just uttered. _Room 7102. Seventh floor, Advertising Department - First division, room 02… _There was a long silence that followed after. Ian continued to stare at his friend's eyes, not noticing the storm brewing in it.

"What did you just say?"

"Yes, you heard it right, Sam. You are blacklisted at room 7102. It's the bloody Trickster's office - _You _can't enter Gabriel's office. Here, read this." Ian thrust his mobile to Sam.

**From: Charlie Bradbury**

(Dec 16, 2012, 9:22 AM)

_Ian, look at this._

_Samuel C Winchester, iEDIT Pass card number 0503-1SDMJ0305-2242 request for banning from Area 7102._

_Just issued this morning by Gabriel Milton's secretary and I don't really understand what on actual fuck is going on. YEAH, I HAVE NO IDEA. I'm obliged to do it, anyway._

_Anna told me just this morning that Gabriel's sulking. Well, just ask Sam why, to save us all the trouble. Maybe we can all sort the thing out._

_Charlie_

* * *

Things started to get scrambled the moment the quiet purr of Dean's Porsche resonated in Castiel's ears, followed by the blast of the car speakers and the screeching of the tires as it made a J-turn towards the direction to the exit. Dean quickly removed his iPod from the dock and tossed it carelessly on the back seat, while grinning sheepishly at Castiel.

"So, where do you live?" Dean regarded Castiel, clearly forcing a small talk.

If Dean would pretend that he hadn't pulled off ranks again in front of Castiel earlier, then two can play that game. Castiel continued to stare through the windshield, refusing to meet Dean's eyes. "Um… Lemon Sage District."

_Lemon Sage. Lemon Sage? That does ring a bell… Again_. Dean concluded that excessive work hours and tiring himself to the point of collapsing clearly tampered with his memories. Sammy's right, he needs a bit of rest sometimes.

There was a long stretch of silence before they reached the gates of Lemon Sage District.

"Where exactly?" Dean queried.

"Where exactly what?"

"Where exactly in Lemon Sage do you live?"

"1221 Sandalwood Estate."

"Sandalwood, right. I take it that you're one of those elite kids, then." Dean said grimly, his fingers tapping the GPS screen and his eyes barely leaving the road. "I saw you pull over the space at B7 a few days ago. Nice blue Lexus, though I couldn't quite place the model myself."

"It's a Lexus LFA. Just a birthday gift from my stepmother." Castiel answered indifferently.

"Ah, LFA. Limited edition, only 20 released worldwide. Quite a beauty."

"Yeah, beautiful indeed. I seldom use it, though. I still think it is way too expensive for a gift."

"Well, I've seen you with it. Its beauty suits you." Dean spluttered out, before he even got the chance to think of his statement twice.

Funny how you can say something in your head and it sounds fine…

"Arrived at 1221 Sandalwood Estate." The GPS said, saving us yet again another awkward moment courtesy of Dean Winchester and his uncontrollable mouth.

_Thank God for creating the inventor of talking GPS and their impeccably generated timings._

* * *

**So, next chapter? ;)**


	7. Chapter 7: Man Up, Dean Winchester

**UPDATE: I modified this chapter and changed (almost) all (obvious) grammatical errors. Sorry again for forgetting to check for faults thrice. I was dead on my feet awhile ago when I posted this. Apologies.**

* * *

**A/N: I just don't know how this chapter would pan out, as I had just recently written this right after watching Goodbye Stranger. Screwed my feels real bad, so here I am; posting my attempt to cheer my muse up.**

**Enough babbling. :) I bring you...**

* * *

**Ch7 - Man Up, Dean Winchester**

Dean watched Castiel closely in the corner of his eye as he stopped at the front of the large wrought iron gates of 1221 Sandalwood Estate. Castiel fiddled nervously on his thin clothes, his teeth chattering together.

"Dean, why did we stop?"

Dean clutched his left hand tightly on the steering wheel. He looked directly at Castiel's sky blue Swarovski eyes, and placed his right hand over Castiel's lap unknowingly.

"Cas. Are you ever going to feel comfortable around me?" Dean sighed.

Castiel did a double-take on Dean, his cheeks flushed bright pink.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're cold. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I'm not cold, Dean. I'm perfectly fine." Castiel countered. Dean nearly believed it, except for the fact that Castiel's teeth chattered together betrayed his little white lie.

"You? Not feeling cold? Well... That," Dean said, while shifting uncomfortably in the driver's seat and desperately trying to take his own raven black overcoat off, "That is bullshit."

"Dean? Dean! What are you trying to-" Castiel stammered, his cheeks blushing a deep scarlet tint.

Dean just smirked, having finally removed his overcoat successfully and draped it on Castiel's shoulders.

"The doctor said you still need some rest, and that you should be looked carefully after. I just don't want you to get sick. I won't allow it, not on my watch." Dean whispered.

* * *

Castiel being an elite kid is the worst understatement Dean Winchester had ever said his entire life. Upon entering the wide, elegant driveway of 1221 Sandalwood Estate, Dean started to wonder whether Castiel was just making a fool of him all this time.

Castiel wasn't just a normal elite kid. He's an abnormally modest elite kid.

Dean can't possibly understand how a wealthy man like Castiel would prefer to be his secretary. The blatant elegance of the remote-controlled automatic wrought iron gates, the snow-covered vast garden and the long driveway spoke for itself; it was a display of vast wealth matching the Winchesters and Miltons.

Maybe the man riding shotgun in his car was just a slapdash bazillionaire playing tricks on him.

_So, I'm right. He's just too good to be true._

The instant Dean's Porsche pulled over the front of the mansion's doorsteps, a man wearing a fur coat and a huge balaclava emerged from the double doors and stood on the stairs, watching intently with a smile on his face as Dean helped Castiel out of his car.

"Can you walk?" Dean asked, his left arm latched on Castiel's waist for support.

"I'm fine." Castiel said icily, as he eyed Dean's arm on his waist.

"Are you sure? You might, you know... The pavement's kinda slippery..."

"It's just an arm. I can walk, of course."

"Um, yeah. Right." Dean removed his hand awkwardly on Castiel's waist and fiddled on his car keys distractedly, thus shutting down all noises in his head and tried to look anywhere but his secretary.

"Shall I look after that car of yours, Mr Winchester?" A deep voice spoke behind Dean, making him jump in shock.

"What? Oh..." Dean hesitated, but gave his car keys nonetheless. "Yes. Thank you, uh..."

"Joshua. The name's Joshua. I'm the housekeeper of this humble home."

"Thanks, Joshua." Dean smiled. He turned to look at Castiel, but there's no sign of him anywhere.

"The young master's in the drawing room. Please do tell Master Clarence the helpers are out today." Joshua smiled. "Well then, I'd be out of your way. If you'll excuse me, young Mister."

Dean stared after his Porsche that drove away to a small garage not far away from the mansion.

_It must be hard for these poor people to pronounce Castiel; so they call him Clarence. God help him, Dean himself still has a bit of a trouble articulating his secretary's name._

Oh, who was he kidding? Castiel's name isn't Clarence, so it's unusual that the mistake of the doctor earlier in the hospital would be repeated.

But what if Castiel's name is really Clarence? Could he be Dean's lost friend?

_No. He isn't._ Dean thought grimly. _Just... No._

He reminded himself that he needed to do a background check on Castiel as soon as he gets back to his office.

Snow began to melt on his thin button-down shirt, but he's still too absorbed in his own thoughts to move.

"Uh, Dean? Are you alright?" Castiel called, his head poking on an open window.

"Yeah, I am." Dean replied, his voice dangerously low.

"First hallway to your right, fifth door."

Dean turned around to walk to the double doors...

_Thwuunk._

...but he found himself having twisted his foot the wrong way and fell on the snowy ground instead.

"Well this could be very nice." Dean mumbled.

* * *

His snow fall (literal snow fall, thank you very much for the correction) if possible, worsened his bad mood much more; but then, if he wanted to gather information from his mysterious and insanely wealthy secretary then he should behave himself.

_Was staring at Castiel's ass for a few minutes' time is the right way to behave?_

**_Man up, Dean Winchester._**

"Um, so... Coffee? Tea? Anything?" Castiel milled about the drawing room, before he made his way to the mini-bar just beside the window.

"Coffee would be lovely, thanks." Dean said as he sat down on one of the squishy loveseats.

"No hot coffee. Just cold!"

"It's fine."

Dean took in every detail of the room; it was already fully decorated for Christmas. Dean started to have a debate with himself on whether how Castiel had the time to do a little redecoration in his tight schedule.

"Mistletoes and poinsettias, green and red and silver and gold, nice decors. You did all of these?"

"Yes. My sisters picked the decorations two months ago, and I set them all up one week before December."

"You're quite the Christmas kid, aren't you?"

Castiel grinned sheepishly. "My parents are religious. They are always enthusiastic about these kinds of things."

"What sort of things, exactly?"

"Christmas and going to church and everything. My parents strongly believe in God and his angels that they named all of their children after angels. Oh, and when I say 'my parents' that obviously excludes me and my siblings to that belief." Castiel explained while managing to shake a metal flask madly.

"So _Castiel_ is an angel?" Dean smirked as he watched his secretary's face go bright scarlet.

"Apparently. I'm named after an angel of Thursday, and that means I watch over people born on Thursday."

"I was born on a Thursday." Dean said casually. "Well, lucky me. I just got myself a gorgeous angel."

Castiel avoided Dean's gaze, but the bright scarlet blush can be clearly seen from his face _miles_ away.

Dean realized (for the first time, can you imagine?) that he acted inappropriately again towards his secretary.

He was _flirting_ with Castiel.

**_Are you sure you're a zero on the Kinsey Scale, Dean Winchester?_**

The stench of awkwardness soaked the drawing room in about a minute when Dean's phone realized it'd be the most brilliant time to chime... Five times.

Dean and Castiel both let out the breath they don't know they had been holding.

* * *

For all he knew, that was just his little brother burdened with a trickster-sized problem.

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and turned to Castiel, who, in turn, tilted his head adorably like a lost puppy.

"Cas, can I borrow your phone?"

"Sure, sure, of course. But it's in the back pocket of my jeans..." Castiel wiggled his mangled arm once and raised his right hand clutching the metal flask, one way of saying '_can't reach it, sorry! Go get it yourself.'_

"Fine, I'll get it." Dean stood up from the loveseat, went to the bar and stopped just less than half a ruler's distance behind Castiel, invading his personal space.

"Where is it?" Dean whispered to Castiel's ear. Castiel's breath hitched a little higher than usual.

"Uh... In... In m-my left back pocket."

Mini-Deans struggled with each other in Dean's mind, all of them wanting to take over the wheel of his reasoning.

_Lucky you, Dean Winchester._

_And how exactly can you get Castiel's phone in his back pocket without even touching that hot piece of..._

_Hey. Your thoughts, man._

_You're straight, Dean, remember?_

_Show him who you really are, Dean!_

_Just for once, don't be afraid to wear your heart on your sleeve._

_It's not like he's going to break your fucking heart._

_It's not that you "like" him that way._

_Oh, who exactly are you fooling? Admit it, you really like him._

* * *

**So, there. I know it's kinda short, but I hope I had eased your S08E17 feels, too.**

**I'm writing the eighth chapter (thanks to those lovely, motivating reviews). Might come out after this week. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8: Dearest Sam

**Violent A/N: This chapter is a parallel of the previous chapter. Thanks for waiting for my incredibly annoying slow update. I'm blaming my iPhone and my stupidly annoying mobile data and Personal Hotspot. IT. JUST. STOPPED. WORKINGGGGG! I'm ringing O2 as of the moment, and I'm thinking of launching an atomic bomb to their office as well. Kidding.**

**Non-violent A/N: This chapter is a parallel of the previous chapter. Thanks for waiting for my update. Italicized words enclosed in horizontal lines are text messages and letters, to avoid confusion. Thanks!**

* * *

**Ch8 – My Dearest Sam**

The Winchester Skyscraper – home of this century's most daring fashion designers, stunning supermodels, eligible bachelors, and extremely cunning tech support personnels.

Unfortunately, the skyscraper was also inhabited by an undecided law student and a lovesick Advertising and Promotions Manager; two people who were still neck-deep in their misunderstanding.

"What happened, Gabriel, really? With the way you're acting, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you have been left by your bride at your wedding day." Anna paced through the length of Gabriel's office, her face etched with obvious concern. To Gabriel, however, this scene qualified as one of those moments where people cry at Dr Phil. So in order not to fall for the emotional trap, Gabriel retorted immediately.

"My dear sister, always so persuasive."

"That word pretty much sums me up, I think. So let's not waste time avoiding the elephant in the room; what's wrong with you and Winchester the younger?" Anna replied inquisitively.

Gabriel merely shrugged. He picked up his fountain pen and scribbled lines and figures on the back of an outdated memo.

"We... Um…" Gabriel trailed off, his left hand still continued to scribble absentmindedly on the paper.

"Gabriel." Anna leaned closer to her brother and stared intently on his golden eyes. "You did what?"

Gabriel frowned. "I think I might have messed up."

"In what way?" Anna said to her younger brother, her features riddled with concern which made Gabriel terribly uncomfortable.

Gabriel mulled over the complexity of the situation. Should he tell Anna, or would it be better if he'd just shut up about it? In a way, it was his and Sam's problem. They should be the ones who fix it on their own, alright. But what if what they really needed was a rescue team who could either fix or haul them out of their sinking ship?

Gabriel stopped drawing on his paper and idly flung it on Anna. He pushed his chair backwards and stood up to face Anna with an indecipherable face.

"I'm suffering from the consequences of my own terrible trick gone wrong. So if you could just _please_ leave me alone to think about it." Gabriel said to his sister.

Anna nodded sympathetically, picked up the paper Gabriel threw and proceeded to walk out of the room.

* * *

_Dearest Sam,_

_I hope your day's fine. I saw you on the parking lot this morning, and you look pretty down. Whatever may be the reason you're feeling this way, I know it's all going to be fine._

_I have placed something on your 'ginormous' drawer as your first gift. You can hug him if you're feeling bad. Or maybe if you'd like someone to talk to, I'm fully yours as well._

_You take care always._

_Your Secret Santa_

* * *

Sam folded the printed letter and smiled to himself. He turned to the biggest drawer – the one that he never locks – and found a squishy three-foot-long stuffed toy.

A moose.

Sam smiled. What with his relationship going down to shambles, the thought of a Secret Santa that knows what you want and you can talk your troubles with was somewhat cheery.

He pulled out his paper drawer and grabbed a fancy glossy green paper and started scribbling on it.

* * *

_Hello, stranger._

_So, how's your day? Thanks for cheering me up. Though how you knew I'm quite fascinated with all kinds of moose, I have no idea. I wish I could take you out for lunch for a treat for cheering me up, but I understand that I still have six days left to wait before I have the chance to do that._

_Sorry for the babble. I don't know what to say. You're right; I am in dire need of a chat. A paper and a new friend and a good conversation are what I need, and I'm glad you're there._

_Sam_

* * *

Sam folded the paper neatly in three and stapled it. On the other side of the paper, he wrote _For Sam Winchester's Secret Santa_ and he decided to get out of his office to return his quick reply to the Great Wall of Letters.

As he passed by Dean's office, he heard a soft voice that came from behind him.

"Sam? A quick word with you?"

Sam looked around, and did a double-take when he saw a man with spiky blonde hair, steep nose, full lips and blue-grey eyes staring back at him.

"Lucifer."

Lucifer Milton smiled kindly at him – which is actually kinda strange. Sam casually pulled out his phone out of his pocket and began typing expertly using his right hand without even looking at it. His eyes were stuck staring at Lucifer's cool blue ones.

* * *

_Dean, we have a problem._

* * *

_I mean, I have a problem – and I could really use your help?_

* * *

Sam hit the send button and answered Lucifer. "What is it that you'd like to talk about?"

"Oh, about something private."

"Is it really that private? Can't we do it here?" Sam said calmly, while his right thumb worked overtime on his phone, typing the words forming inside his head.

* * *

_Please, Dean. I really really really need your help._

* * *

_Dean, I know you're with your secretary, Castiel, God-knows-where doing God-knows-what, but could you just please, please spare some time to text me ASAP._

_PS: I'll buy you tons of pie if you help me._

* * *

"I'm afraid not, _Samsy_. Don't worry, I won't be long," replied Lucifer, his thin mouth still smiling kindly. Too kind of a smile that Sam found it unsettling.

"Okay… Um, just let me drop this letter on the Great Wall of–"

"Of course, of course," Lucifer nodded. "Can I come with you?"

"Ehrm… Sure." Sam smiled momentarily before he turned around to go to the Great Wall of Letters. He focused and tapped on his phone madly, hoping that Dean would answer immediately.

* * *

_Life and death situation here, just so you know._

* * *

In his haste, Sam wasn't fully aware on where he was going and before he knew it, he bumped into someone's shoulder. As both of them fell along with the fluttering ledgers, Sam caught a familiar fragrant whiff of newly-opened chocolates.

"Ow! Watch it!" An angry, yet smooth voice exclaimed, almost in sync with Sam's repetitious apology.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry I–" Sam started to pick up the ledgers, but he was rendered at loss for words and thoughts when he started to hand the papers back and saw a pair of gentle golden eyes – bright with what would be called unshed tears – staring widely at him.

_Gabriel._

On Gabriel's hand was Sam's letter to his Secret Santa. Sam slowly reached for it but Gabriel thrust it gently on his chest and snatched the papers on Sam's hand.

"Thanks." Gabriel muttered tensely under his breath. Without looking at Sam again, he continued on walking rapidly.

Sam did nothing but to stare at Gabriel's back until he reached the left corridor leading to the Advertising Department.

Sam's phone buzzed. He gaped at the name and the message far too long.

_What's your life and death situation? Not Gabriel again, I suppose? – Dean_

It really was Dean's text, no mistake about that.

What made the message surprising to Sam was that it was not Dean's name and number that appeared on the sender's.

It was Castiel's.

Sam knew that one of Dean's laws of living was not to borrow a mobile phone. Dean told Sam once that mobile phones are like undergarments: they are personal things that aren't meant to be shared.

And moreover, Dean never for once got hold of prepaid accounts that ran out of minutes every freaking time, and his mobile phones were always charged up. It was highly unlikely for him to borrow someone's phone just because he feels like it.

Lucifer coughed gently. "Shall we proceed?"

"Hang on." Sam replied.

He smiled at the message on his phone, and at the fact that his brother had somehow coxswained on the right path. He found himself unable to restrain a Cheshire-like grin on his face when he typed the words,

* * *

_No, never mind. I'm just messing around. Have fun with Cas!_

* * *

"So, what is it that you'd like to talk to me about?"

"The box. Remember the box?" Lucifer shifted on a chair, still eyeing Sam with uncertainty.

"What box?" Sam inquired, his brows furrowing in mixed confusion and curiosity.

"The bulky one I chucked on your brother's head the other day, when I came with my dear old megaphone."

"Oh, was that just two days ago?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Lots of things happened, I know, I know." Lucifer smiled guiltily and shrugged. "I have a huge favour to ask of you, Samsy."

Sam grimaced at Lucifer's mention of the atrocious nickname. "On one condition… Maybe two."

Lucifer raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Stop calling me Samsy."

"Ugh. No way." Lucifer argued. "Besides, it's for _our_ brother's sake, too. You must cooperate."

Sam gaped. "Dean and Castiel? I-I-Is that why you've broken Castiel's arm?"

"Never mind the petty details, my dear Samsy. What I'd like you to do is not to let Dean see the content of the box, not until they're both ready." Said Lucifer. He got up of his squishy chair and made his way to the door. Sam followed him instinctively, his hand closing in on Lucifer's right arm, pulling him back to his seat again.

"Ready for what?" Sam asked, his eyes were narrowing to slits as he leaned in to face Lucifer.

"For everything."

Lucifer slowly broke free from Sam's grip and caressed the younger Winchester's cheek. Sam tried his hardest not to surrender himself in Lucifer's touch, but the gesture was rendered inevitable.

"A man's true beauty can only be seen if he had experienced hurt." Lucifer smiled weakly at Sam and kissed him in the forehead. "You take care, Winchester the younger."

Sam slumped in his seat as soon as Lucifer was gone. He attempted to stare out of his window to shake off the sly butterflies fluttering in his stomach, but little did he know that the scene outside his office would be more depressing than most.

Sam froze when he saw the figure standing outside his window, staring at where he and Lucifer once had been a moment ago.

_Gabriel._

Sam wanted to explain to Gabriel, to reason with him that what he saw wasn't what it had seemed. He stood up from his seat and ran out of his office to where Gabriel was standing, but abruptly stopped when his phone buzzed twice in his back pocket.

* * *

_Sam. I'm sorry if I'm meddling with you and my baby brother's affairs, but I'm afraid you and Gabriel will be needing all the help you can get as you both are pigheads. See this. -Anna_

* * *

Sam clicked on the picture and briefly looked at it before he glanced at Gabriel's way.

The picture was a snapshot of a crumpled paper with a doodle of two boys: The one is a kid with shoulder-length hair, his bloody hands squeezing a heart. The other boy is wearing the horned helm of a trickster. He was on all fours, with visible pain etched on his forehead, his eyes on the ground and tears falling on a puddle.

Sam recognised the beautiful way the pen ink curves on the figures, the perfect shades of shadows and the light strokes of the almost-invisible guide lines.

It was made by Gabriel's hands.

He looked at the picture again then back at Gabriel, who was already on his feet and running as far away from him as possible.

* * *

**Good or bad? Anything! I always find all kinds of reviews motivating. :D**


	9. Chapter 9: Heat of the Moment

**A/N: This chapter's for the Dean to my Castiel, the Sherlawk to my Jawn and the Sammeh to my Gabey: carry-on-my-wayward-wormstache on tumblr. She had been my tumblr best friend for three days now and surprisingly, she really can withstand my insanity! (Yay us!)**

**So, enough pleasantries, I s'pose. Enjoy reading Ch9 and I hope you like it. :)**

* * *

**Ch9 - Heat of the Moment**

_Scratch scratch._

"Shush." Dean said to Castiel, effectively halting his secretary's erratic breathing. Dean felt the rise and fall of Castiel's chest against his. His own hands were around Castiel and their legs were accidentally entwined. Dean's nose was choicelessly burrowed on his secretary's apple-scented hair while Castiel's face rested on his neck, his ragged breathing sent goose bumps on Dean's arms.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. Apparently, being shoved with Dean inside a constricted broom cupboard with one of your legs trapped between his own was pretty unnerving. Screw the concept of personal space – It was almost impossible not to get touchy-feely with each other with the five-and-a-half-feet tall and two-foot wide compressed space they had squeezed themselves into whilst running from an extremely vicious tiger.

Yes, a _tiger_. An enormous white tiger chased Dean and Castiel the moment they entered the dining room to have dinner a few moments back. How on earth did a white tiger barge into the house, anyway?

"Is it still outside?" Castiel silently whimpered, his breath successfully sent electrifying chills down Dean's spine and straight to his groin. Dean nodded in affirmative to Castiel's question while fruitlessly trying to shift his legs awkwardly away from him. In his vain attempts at gaining his dignity, his right leg brushed against Castiel's crotch instead. Castiel's stance stiffened, his head went still at the crook of Dean's neck and Dean could feel the heat of embarrassment emanating from his own cheeks.

"Sorry!" Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to–"

"It's okay." Cas replied, his lips ghosting on Dean's neck. Dean tried to suppress a gasp, which was succeeded by a noisy, strangled snort.

He was really losing his dignity and control over his own actions. All he needed right now was the luck of surviving the tiger and feeling Castiel's every bit of skin against his. Dean felt a strange sense of déjà vu in their current situation.

Without thinking, Dean turned his head slightly and pressed his lips onto Castiel's. Castiel gasped at the sudden move, but gradually danced along with the kiss. Dean's mouth collided softly with Castiel, basking in the warmth of their closeness. His tongue gently parted Castiel's lips and took the liberty to relish the slow, consuming fire burning them. Castiel's hesitation slowly turned to determination as Dean's hands carefully snaked under his shirt.

Dean's lips slowly parted with Castiel's, a ghost of a smile lurking on their faces. Dean shifted his head to Castiel's neck and bit him, gently sucking and licking until he could hear him gasp with desperation.

_Scratch scratch._

The eerie sound of nails scraping against wood startled them. The tiger had found their cupboard door. Dean pressed himself more against Castiel to gain a mere few centimetres away from the cupboard door, not bothering the gasp (Mind you, it sounded like a very debauched moan) that escaped from his secretary's throat.

He felt Castiel's cock twitch and harden, which made him think that it's better if he just hadn't noticed at all. It made him feel less scared of the tiger scratching the door behind him and more scared of what he did earlier and what he might still do in this dark, tiny space with his leg shoved between Castiel's.

"Dean. Dean. It's here…"

"Shhh. Don't worry, I'm here. Say you believe me." Dean murmured softly against his hair, his hands pulling Castiel closer to him.

"Yes, Dean. I do believe you." Castiel subconsciously melded to Dean, his left hand snaking on Dean's dishevelled hair and his face nuzzling on Dean's neck as the door slowly gives in to the pressure of the tiger's claws…

There was a whistle and the scratching subsided. Dean could not hear the footsteps approaching their hideout; his own heartbeat pounding in his own ears and Castiel's heart hammering against his was all he could hear as of the moment.

The cupboard door opened, with Castiel falling over Dean face-down and Dean staring right at the face of no other than the balaclava-wearing manservant, Joshua.

"Ugh." Dean panted, trying his best to gulp as much air as he can take. His eyes spotted his own hands curled on Castiel's back. He also registered something clutching the back of his head – Castiel's hand.

His personal space had just been invaded by his secretary, they kissed and cuddled and yet he doesn't have a problem with it: That worried Dean to no end. What happened to his usual 'employer-employee' distance?

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, deliberately avoiding Joshua's eyes. Locking yourself up with the master of the house in a broom cupboard really doesn't make a good first impression, so avoiding glances it is.

"I'm fine. I'm so sorry for falling onto you." Castiel said with a scarlet blush which rendered Dean momentarily speechless. His lips were still flushed. _Good_. A fleeting second passed before Dean collected himself.

Dean smirked, attempting to dissipate the butterflies filling his stomach. He gently traced Castiel's fine cheekbones and noticed his secretary's pupils dilate. _Good_. "Are you apologising for falling for me literally or falling for me metaphorically?"

Castiel looked away.

His silence caught Dean off-guard. Of course, come to think of it, he himself doesn't know the answer to his own question. Could it possibly be that Castiel had fallen for him in the metaphorical sense of the word?

Dean's thoughts were cut off by the deep voice over them. Damn, he had forgotten about Joshua.

"Young master Clarence. I deeply apologise for the pandemonium your tiger had caused."

It was Castiel's turn to be surprised. "_My _tiger?"

Two questions taunted Dean to no end. He blurted it out before anyone could even utter another word.

"_Clarence, _really?" Dean repeated in a non-intelligible manner. Dean shot a _we-are-so-going-to-talk-about-this-later_ glance at Castiel. "_Your _tiger?" It's fairly absurd. How can Castiel run away from his _pet_?

"I have no such knowledge of raising a tiger in my home, Joshua. Pray tell me how did it get in? And how can it be called _my _tiger?"

"Your father sent it yesterday morning as a get-well-soon gift. Since then, I have been trying to teach this intelligent creature. I would've had introduced you if you hadn't run off–"

"Of course we ran off! It was chasing us!" Dean grimaced. Castiel looked to Dean and nodded in affirmative.

"I apologise. But, you see, this tiger is especially tamed. She was scratching the cupboard door because she wants to see you; she loves meeting other people. Her name is Alexandria." Joshua smiled, rubbing the snout of the huge snow-coloured wild cat. The tiger purred appreciatively, its tail wagging happily in the air. "Master Zach named her after you, Mr Winchester. I believe your second name is Alexander."

Joshua smiled kindly and led the tiger away from them before either of them could even say a word. Dean and Castiel remained in their position, both of them staring dumbfoundedly at the tiger.

"Named after _me_? Who would name a terrifyingly huge white cat after me?" Dean queried confusedly, staring at Castiel. "Did you?"

Castiel blushed deep red before looking away at Dean. "No. No, it's absurd. Definitely not. Why would I? You heard Joshua, it was Father's doing."

"Right." Dean drawled the word long enough to let Castiel know he was suspicious. "I didn't know your father was _fawning _over me."

Castiel got up and dusted himself off. His cheeks were still flushed, much to Dean's amusement. "Um, shall we go back to the drawing room?"

Dean grinned widely. "Sure we can."

Dean can't still shake the feeling that there's something funny going on with Castiel and his avoidance. It wasn't like those usual thoughtful, peaceful silences, no, it's a different one – an unnerving, deafening silence.

"Uh... So," Dean started, trying to ease up the awkwardness between them, "Clarence, is it?"

Castiel could only nod in response. If Dean's hunch was right, his secretary was still bothered with what happened inside the cupboard. In fact, he himself still doesn't understand as to why his animalistic attitude chose that particular moment to show.

Unbeknownst to Dean, Castiel felt like his heart was about to burst with emotional and situational overload. The feel of Dean's lips against his, his tongue moving obligingly to bask in his warmth, the insistent hands crawling under his shirt... It reminded him of what happened between Dean and him on Lucifer's closet. It all made Castiel spark to the point of self-destruction.

"I haven't had the chance to know your full name." Dean spoke, shattering his reverie.

"Clarence Castiel Novak M–" Castiel pursed his lips and stopped himself right in time before saying _Milton _and blowing his cover. The whole point of playing as Dean's secretary and not letting Dean know that he was the little Clarence that Dean loved at the dawn of their time was to test if he really was remembered by him, or just a casual fling that Dean got ahold of in the heat of the moment.

He needed to know if Dean was worth the efforts he was making. He was, after all, Castiel's first love.

"I see." Dean murmured, deciding not to have another shot at a conversation before he can sort the situation up. He leaned on the doorpost and watched Castiel slump on the squishy loveseat, his face exposing an utterly apparent sign of confusion.

"Clarence? Is there…" Dean sighed, walked towards the small loveseat and sat beside his pensive-looking secretary. "Look, I'm really sorry if…"

"F-f-fine. I'm fine." Castiel said distractedly, shuffling away from Dean and still determined not to look directly into his eyes.

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed his arms disbelievingly. Man, this angel surely is weird!

_Did you not just call him angel, Dean?_

"If you say so." Dean uttered under his breath. "I think I shall go now."

Dean felt a tug on his sleeve just as he was starting to get up from the loveseat. He turned to look at Castiel and was struck by a pair of sky blue Swarovski crystal-like eyes staring back at him.

"Dean? Can you…" Castiel bit his lip, looking away momentarily from Dean. "I really am not accustomed to this house without people. Can you stay here for the night? That is… That is if it's fine with you. I don't really want to bother you."

Dean smiled weakly at him and settled back to the squishy loveseat. Castiel's eyes light up and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean could feel the movement of his secretary's face on his shoulder. A _smile_?

"Thank you, Dean." His secretary whispered.

This man with a mangled arm sitting beside him nuzzled a bit closer, Dean can't help but drape his arm over this man's back and draw him closer.

He can still feel the smile on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but smile back. He's on a sodding loveseat with his secretary whom he's supposed to hate, but he couldn't bring himself to. The sky blue Swarovski eyes, the dark-brown hair, the tender lips, the gentleness, the thoughtfulness, the kindness, the determination to impress and the underlying passion – what's there to hate?

Nothing, but there's a whole lot about his secretary to love.

* * *

**A/N yet again: Ch10 is on its way and don't forget to review. :P**

**P.S. : If you want to give some opinions and ideas of what you wanted to happen in the future, just PM me or contact me in any way ;)**


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